


Take a Gamble on Me

by downbyashes



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Before Yuuri/Victor, Brief Victor/Cristophe, Detroit days, Drinking, Gambling, Gambling Addiction, M/M, Mentions of Illegal Gambling, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Poker, Texas Hold'em, gambling au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-07-27 11:34:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16218170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downbyashes/pseuds/downbyashes
Summary: Katsuki Yuuri has been gambling for years, even if it was illegally at his parents' onsen, and he was in his teens when he started. He's had practice, and now, living in America, the world of poker has opened up for him.When his idol, number one ranked Victor Nikiforov, shows up suddenly at his door, Yuuri's world is turned upside down as he tried to follow Victor deeper into the world of gambling, but how far in is Victor already, and how far is too far?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! So, yeah! This is my first multi-chapter fic! I'll admit, I'm kinda excited! I've been wanting to write a multi-chap fic for a while, but I haven't had any inspiration for one until now! (Props to my best friend who probably won't read this and doesn't know this even exists or that she gave me inspiration!) 
> 
> Anyways, I love poker, though I am in no way an expert, and in writing this, I questioned myself as to why I'd never come up with this before! I set out every hand played in this fic, because there is no way I could come up with hands that seem realistic and don't repeat on cards. This way, it's fair and totally random as to what they get!
> 
> I use quite a few poker terms in here, some I looked up specifically to use, so if there are any questions as to what something means, don't be afraid to ask! (If I got any terms or game play wrong, please tell me!!! I researched the best I could, and this is how I've always played!) And if you want a glossary of some of the terms, please ask, and I will put one in! The first chapter is a bit heavy on the poker jargon, but it definitely tapers off after this chapter if you can get through it. 
> 
> Anyways, happy two years of Yuri!!! on Ice! I really wanted to get the first chapter out for the anniversary. I'll try and get more out as soon as possible! I have chapter two written, and the starts of chapter 3. I'll probably edit this chapter up again before I put up chapter 2, as I've only done two comb throughs of this chapter, so I'm sorry about any typos... I'll get rid of as many as I can as soon as I can! I just really want it up today!
> 
> And now, without farther adieu...

This was it; the night Katsuki Yuuri had been waiting for since he was a teen. The night he’d been waiting for since he was young, gambling in his parents’ onsen. 

He was about to play poker on the world stage. 

He’d made it past the qualifiers last month, but he was certain that the only reason he had was because he’d gotten half decent hands. It defiantly was not because of his bluffing. He tended not to, and instead tried to rely on the cards he had, though he would bet on bad cards if he was pushed into a corner. 

But at the end of the day, he was here, in Montreal, playing poker with some of the best of the best in the world. 

“It’s okay, Yuuri,” Phichit said next to him, gripping his friend’s wrist. “I’m right here. I’ll be with you the whole night. We’re at the same table tonight, after all. You know that if you need me, you just have to nudge your foot against mine and take a deep breath. I’m here for you, even if I’m playing against you.” 

Yuuri nodded, immediately taking a deep breath to calm the nerves that were already rising. He had his earbuds in already. Nothing was playing yet, but he was ready to press the play button and tune everything out. He had to focus. Only half the table was going to advance to tomorrow. He and Phichit were hoping to be two of the three. 

Yuuri knew it was going to be tough, though. Even though he and Phichit had played hand after hand back in Detroit, working on their poker faces against someone who knew them well, trying to form some kind of a strategy to use against the other. All their free time in the last three weeks had been spent like that, staying up late betting their loose change and keeping their third roommate up to help. Even if the Canadian boy didn’t gamble much, he was always a bit over hopeful to win back at least some of his money, even if it was just nickels and dimes and quarters and pennies. It all added up eventually. 

And their roommate had been quick to figure that out, but it was also why he rarely paid when they all ate out. It was almost a fair trade in the end. 

As they checked in and got their chips, Yuuri heard a commotion at the front doors, and turned around. There was a boy in his late teens being held back, and he looked like he was ready to go on a rampage.

“I was told I’d be able to watch. My coach said so. Just let me in!” the blond yelled, an accent thick in his voice. He clenched his fists at his sides before trying to lurch forward again. “Just ask Victor when he gets here. He’ll tell you!” 

Yuuri felt his body tense, his spine going stiff. Victor… as in Victor Nikiforov, the top poker player in the world. Yuuri had looked up to the older man for years, had dreamed of playing against him, and it started to sink in that this could be his chance to do so. 

Suddenly he was ten times more anxious than he had been just moments ago. He was just glad he had Phichit at the first table with him. He prayed it would help bolster his confidence. 

“Yuuri,” Phichit murmured, gripping his friend’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go.” 

“Do you know who that boy was?” Yuuri murmured, following the shorter boy inside. 

Phichit shrugged, though it seemed like an automatic response. “Not really. I just know that his last name is Plisetsky, and he’s been playing for a while now, even if he’s under age. Nothing competitive, of course, but I’ve heard a rumour that he could rival Nikiforov someday. Once he’s actually of age, of course.” 

Yuuri nodded along, allowing Phichit to guide him away from the front desk and farther into the building. Outside, Plisetsky continued to get more and more irate, starting to scream profanities at the security guard, who was only trying to do his job. 

Once actually inside, Yuuri looked around at the casino that had been transformed for the tournament. The overhead lights were dim, though there were bright lights directly over each table. The tables were spaced out evenly across the room, leaving enough room to navigate the space without potentially bumping anyone’s chair by accident. 

Phichit handed Yuuri his bag of chips as they navigated the room. Phichit had grabbed both bags when Yuuri had showed the signs that his brain wasn’t processing much more that his anxious thoughts, and Yuuri hated to admit that Phichit had probably been right, and Yuuri was thankful again for his friend. Yuuri didn’t know what he’d do without Phichit.

They found their table and took their seats. Yuuri took solace in the fact that they weren’t the last ones there. He’d made sure they got there earlier than necessary, but there was still a doubt in the back of his mind that they were still going to be late. Yuuri let out his nerves by stacking up his chips, being a perfectionist in how high his stacks were, and how he had them organized. It helped, arranging and rearranging his chips until he was satisfied. 

Another man was already at their table, and he glanced at Yuuri and Phichit before looking to a dark haired girl at another table across the room. 

“Michele Crispino,” Phichit whispered, keeping his eyes averted from the other man. “He’s super over protective of his twin sister, Sara, and I’ve found he gets distracted by her easily, always looking out for her well-being. He also has a bit of a resting bitch face. I haven’t found many pictures of him smiling. He tends to scowl unless Sara’s around.” 

Yuuri chuckled. Of course Phichit would have done his research on the people they were playing against. He appreciated how it soothed him even more to hear Phichit talk about their opponents. Yuuri couldn’t even bring himself to look at the table assignments before they left; he knew he’d over think the rankings, and start looking up videos of them playing in the past. Sometimes, he wouldn’t sleep for days, between the anxiety, watching videos, and playing hand after hand, trying to get better so he could win. Phichit, on the other hand, enjoyed digging up as much dirt as he could. He’d go through every social media account the other players had, and commit it all to memory. He could find anything on anyone with just fifteen minutes of idle searching the internet. 

Yuuri had to envy Phichit, and how easily he could do almost anything without caring or worrying about negative consequences. He was a social butterfly, and well-liked by just about everyone he knew. Yuuri was a whole other story. He hated crowds, and was a wallflower at any and all social gatherings. He didn’t like the idea of having to socialize with others, and would much rather spend the day in his sweats and curled up with his dog. They were polar opposites, but as best friends, they complimented each other, balanced each other out, and worked as an indestructible force. 

“Who else will be at the table? Where are they from?” Yuuri asked, wanting to keep Phichit talking so he could stay distracted from his thoughts. Sure, he didn’t really want to know who was going to be there, but he’d know when everyone got there, so he may as well be prepared for when they showed up. 

“We have an Italian, a South Korean, a Swiss, a Russian, and then us, a Japanese and a Thai. Michele is the Italian, and the South Korean just walked in and is heading this way. His name is Seung-gil Lee. He’s another one with a resting bitch face, only his is probably worse than Crispino’s. Lee was ranked pretty high going in, seventh, or something,” Phichit said, examining his chips.

“Seventh?” Yuuri breathed, anxiety creeping in on him again. Going in, Yuuri had somehow managed to snag an eleventh place ranking, and Phichit had grabbed thirteenth. 

Phichit sighed, keeping his eyes averted. “Yuuri, don’t start having a panic attack now. _Please._ You can’t afford it.” 

Yuuri nodded, taking deep breaths and watching Crispino and Lee, who had just arrived at the table. “Just tell me about the other two,” he whispered. “I need the distraction.” 

Phichit stole a glance at Yuuri, worry pulling down the corners of his eyebrows. “Um, okay, but just know that Lee isn’t the highest ranked player at our table.”

“There’s someone higher than seventh?” Yuuri asked, looking horrified. “Phichit, who is it? Is it Jean? No, he’s Canadian. Russian, Russian… Popovich? Babacheva? No, no, they’re both ranked too low. That only leaves…”

“Good evening, gentlemen,” a deep, velvety voice said, a Russian accent present, though not as thick as the teen’s from before had been. 

Yuuri’s body tensed again, a squeak escaping his lips as he stared into Phichit’s dark eyes. “You didn’t tell me that… that Victor Nikiforov…” Yuuri let his eyes slide over to the silver-haired man, his breathing accelerating even more. 

He’d arrived with the Swiss man, who Yuuri recognized instantly as Christophe Giacometti, and both were smiling and laughing, speaking soft secrets to each other in French before sharing more laughs. Even though Yuuri didn’t actively follow many other poker players, he knew almost everything there was to know about the top player in the world. 

Victor Nikiforov had been on top of the poker world for the last four years, and had been a big name since he’d come onto the scene when he was eighteen years old. His poker face was unsurpassed, and he could bluff better than any other player he’d watched. He’d once gotten someone with an almost unbeatable hand to fold when he’d held nothing more than a queen high. 

Victor Nikiforov was number one for a reason. 

His companion, the second ranked Christophe Giacometti, was just as good. Yuuri had watched the two of them play each other one on one, and it was similar to the way he played with Phichit, playful banter and supportive cheers throughout. 

Yuuri slid from his chair, sitting on the balls of his feet under the table, knees hugged to his chest. His heart pounded in his chest, and his palms were starting to sweat. No matter how deeply he breathed, he just couldn’t get enough air. 

“Yuuri, listen to my voice. I knew you wouldn’t want to come today if you knew we were playing him. You deserve to be here tonight. You earned your place. I know you can do this,” Phichit murmured. 

“Phichit, I don’t care what you say. I can’t do this. I can’t play against Victor! He’s… he’s Victor! I have watched him since I was in my late teens. I can’t just play against him without warning! How could you do this to me?” Yuuri could feel his chest hitching for more breath, as though he’d just finished running a marathon. Phichit curled his smaller body around Yuuri’s, rubbing his friend’s back. 

Yuuri could feel eyes on him, could feel everyone’s judging looks. Everyone was looking at him, thinking he was weak, unworthy of being there. He just knew they were. Victor’s look had to be the harshest. Why would someone like Yuuri actually stand a chance at a table with _Victor?_ Why would Victor give him even a second of his time? Why would…

“Yuuri, again, listen to my voice, okay? Take deep breaths with me. I’ll count.” Phichit’s face was right next to his, his voice low and calm, his breath warm and soothing against Yuuri’s cheek, serving to ground him again. 

After all, you didn’t live with Yuuri for two years and not learn to handle his panic attacks. 

A woman came by, giving their table a fifteen minute warning, and by then, Yuuri had mostly pulled himself back together and got back in his chair. He fidgeted with his chips, arranging and rearranging them again and again, keeping his head down as the other players got themselves ready. 

He took secret peeks at Victor, watching the older man peel off his pea coat, leaving him in a designer sweater and fitted jeans. Yuuri could feel his face warm, imagining what it would be like to push his hands under that sweater, and looked away quickly when Victor looked like he was about to turn to him. There was no way he could risk getting caught. 

He hit the button on his earbuds, playing his playlist softly on his ears, keeping it just quiet enough to hear what was going on around him. He could hear Victor and Christophe laughing as they continued their conversation in French. Victor dropped the occasional English or Russian words, likely when he didn’t know the French. Michele was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed with a bored look on his face. Seung-gil was glaring at his chips, his elbows resting on the edge of the table. Like Yuuri, he kept rearranging his chips, never satisfied with the result. 

Phichit nudged Yuuri’s foot under the table, and Yuuri whipped his head around, looking to his friend. Phichit was watching him, perfectly plucked brows drawn together in worry. 

Yuuri shook his head, breaking eye contact to look down. He was slightly more focused now, calmed down from the initial shock. He had a game to play, a chance to prove himself. He didn’t just want to show the world that he was worthy of his place at this table; he wanted to prove it to himself as well. 

Though above everything, he wanted to gain Victor’s respect. He needed to. There was no other option. 

The dealer arrived, shuffling the cards in preparation for the playing to begin. She was brisk and efficient in her movements, the cards snapping together. Yuuri found it oddly comforting. That with the rush of the gamble reminded him of home when he was younger. Small groups would get together and play at the onsen, and he would watch until he got old enough to play too. He hadn’t been very good at first, but after watching some poker tournaments on TV and online, he’d not only improved drastically, but he’d also found Victor, with his long silvery hair that he’d since lopped off.

Taking a deep breath, Yuuri resettled himself, adjusting his hood over his head and pushing his earbuds in more securely before nudging his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. He looked over to Phichit, who was sitting back, relaxed and at home at the poker table, just as much as he usually was when Victor wasn’t there. 

Yuuri took one last deep breath as the dealer announced that the playing was about to commence. 

Antes were paid, and the cards were dealt. Yuuri fought down the anxiousness bubbling in his stomach, reaching a hand out to his cards. He hoped he had something decent. 

Three of hearts, queen of spades. _A queen high off-suit,_ he told himself. It wasn’t worst case scenario, but it wasn’t great, either. 

He hoped someone else had a hand just as bad or worse. Then again, the cards could bring anything up. When the bet came around to him, he saw the bet, and Phichit followed suit. 

The top card was burned before the flop came out, the nine of hearts, followed by the ace of diamonds, and the two of spades. The two and the ace, along with his three… it was the beginnings of a straight, if he was lucky. A four and a five would be great, though he’d be happy with a king as well.

Across the table, Victor raised the bet, and Michele raised it a bit more, side eyeing the Russian as he did so. Next to Yuuri, Seung-gil folded with a scoff. 

Yuuri saw, and Phichit did the same after looking at his cards and considering for a moment. 

Another card burned, then the turn came up with the five of diamonds. 

Yuuri didn’t feel anything move in his face, so he hoped nothing showed. His straight was still going.

All he needed was a four. 

He saw Victor look over to him, and a lazy smirk pulled up half his face as he dropped a wink. 

Yuuri felt his heart stutter in his chest. Was this one of Victor’s tactics that weren’t shown in the streams he’d watched? Shameless, wordless flirting? Yuuri wanted to smack himself. He couldn’t get distracted, no matter how attractive Victor was. 

He felt a nudge from Phichit under the table, and it helped ground him. He had a game to play and win. 

Christophe opened the betting, and Victor upped it substantially, which Michele saw. 

Yuuri hesitated on tossing in more of his chips in. The odds of a four coming up weren’t good. For all he knew, all the fours were out already. Someone else could already have a pair, or three of a kind, or even better. Even a second queen probably wouldn’t save him. 

“Fold,” he murmured, tossing his cards. He couldn’t waste so many chips so soon. 

Phichit folded right after him, and Chris followed, instead of seeing Victor. 

Victor eyed down Michele, who just gave him the stink eye back as the river brought up the queen of diamonds. 

_I would have had a strong pair,_ Yuuri thought. If a pair was the highest hand everyone had, only kings or aces would have been able to beat his hand. 

Victor threw in more chips and smiled angelically at Michele, who scowled, glancing at his cards again. 

“Come now, Michele. It’s just a few chips,” Victor purred, lacing his fingers together and resting his chin on the backs of them. The look he gave was full of innocence, and suddenly Yuuri wanted to listen to Victor, to toss more of his own chips in, even though he’d already folded. 

Victor’s words were like a siren song, and Yuuri was the sailor that wanted to chase it, even if he knew it would only end in destruction. 

“Fuck off, Nikiforov,” Michele hissed, hand on his chips before glancing at his cards one last time. With a huff, he tossed his handing, flipping them over. “I fold.” 

Michele had a pocket four and ace, meaning he’d been betting on a pair of aces. Yuuri’s heart sunk with the knowledge that if Victor was bluffing and didn’t have anything, Yuuri still would have had a shot, if only he’d stayed. Sure, he wouldn’t have wanted to bet as much as Victor had, but if he stayed in and saw Victor, he could have raked in a nice pot, especially if Michele folded. 

Victor’s angelic smile shifted into a cold smirk as he turned over his cards; a six and a nine. “ _Spasibo,_ ” he murmured, scooping the pot toward him and stacking his winnings up. 

A pair of nines had won. Victor wasn’t holding anything back. Yuuri knew that if he wanted even a slight chance at winning, he had to take some risks. He couldn’t play it safe like he usually did, not when Victor was winning on bluffs already. 

Yuuri felt far out of his element. 

The next hand started as the antes were paid up, and the cards were dealt. Yuuri drew on a new reserve of determination, setting his jaw as he glanced at his cards. A three and an ace. Again, another decent high card, even if the three was really low. At least it was better than other hands he’d started with. 

Chips flew and Seung-gil tossed his cards in right off the bat. Victor let out a soft chuckle as he leaned back in his chair. Yuuri couldn’t help but think that he looked like a king, looking on over his kingdom from his tower. Then again, he very much was the king of the poker table. He was ranked number one, after all. 

And Yuuri knew why Victor was ranked where he was. Victor was intimidating in a way that sowed doubts in his opponent’s mind and made them question their every move, their cards and how good their hand was. He turned an extreme disadvantage completely on its head, coming out on top with a gross advantage. 

Yuuri knew he couldn’t let Victor get into his head. 

The flop came out; the nine of spades, the jack of clubs, the ten of hearts. 

Yuuri’s brows shot up when Victor folded, and Michele, side eyeing Chris, did the same. 

Yuuri kept up with Christophe’s bet, but when it went to Phichit, the Thai threw in a few extra chips. 

Chris cocked an eyebrow from the other side of the table, looking Phichit up and down. “Not just a pretty face, hm? You can actually play too.” 

Phichit didn’t respond verbally. He just stared the Swiss man down with his steely gaze, lips pressed in a thin line. Yuuri wasn’t used to seeing his usually bubbly friend be so cold, not when he was usually such a warm person. But poker brought out different sides of them both. Yuuri just had to find his different side. 

“How about you boys duel this one out yourselves?” Chris said, tossing his cards to the dealer. Yuuri caught a glimpse of a pair of sixes. This whole thing was no joke. 

Yuuri slid in enough chips to see Phichit’s bet, hoping he wouldn’t regret it. Then again, now that it was just them playing each other, like they always did. 

The pressure was off to win against Victor this hand. Yuuri knew he could do this. 

The turn came up with the ace of diamonds, and Yuuri held back a sigh. A pair, as high as a pair could be. It would have won the last pot, and now he was hoping Phichit didn’t have something better. He knew a pair wouldn’t win every hand, but he was hoping it would win this one. 

Yuuri checked, not wanting to spend a bunch of chips on a garbage hand, and also hoping that because it’s Phichit, his friend would help him conserve their chips, no matter who won. 

Only, Phichit called. Even if it was the minimum bet, Phichit was obviously bent on winning. 

If Yuuri was being honest, he wasn’t sure he’d go easy on his friend if he had something good. 

Yeah, Yuuri couldn’t get too mad at Phichit. 

Thing was, Phichit didn’t often raise a bet on a hand where he had nothing. This was his version of going easy. If he’d been against anyone else, Yuuri was certain he would have raised the bet higher. 

Yuuri knew Phichit was more than likely being legit, and if he was, then Yuuri’s pair of aces wouldn’t be enough to win. 

“I guess I’ll fold,” Yuuri said, tossing his cards to the dealer, taking up a chip from his pile and moving the smooth circular disk through his fingers. 

He glanced over at Phichit’s cards when he tossed them in, and saw a king and a queen. 

_A Broadway straight,_ Yuuri thought. _Good job, Phich!_ If only he'd been able to actually play it against someone. 

A satisfied smirk crossed Phichit’s features as he stacked up the pot, dropping in his ante as he went. 

Yuuri examined his own dwindling stack. He was about on par with Michele, and Chris didn’t have many more either. Seung-gil still had most of his, having not put in much more than the antes he had to. 

Victor and Phichit both were the best off, having already won pots. Yuuri envied the wiggle room they had over the rest of the table. They didn’t have to be so conservative, and Yuuri longed for that position. 

Yuuri threw in his ante with the rest, and tapped the backs of his cards, a slightly superstitious gesture he was convinced was the reason for his bad cards the first two hands, before peaking at them. The three of diamonds and the seven of spades. 

Betting in that round was much more subdued. Chris folded right away, and Victor and Michele checked before Seung-gil folded again. Yuuri eyed the Korean warily as he checked, wondering why he was there, and how he’d gotten ranked so high in the qualifiers if all he did was fold. Phichit nudged Yuuri softly under the table as he checked too, shooting a warning when Yuuri looked at him. 

The flop brought the ten of hearts, along with the six and seven of diamonds. Yuuri suppressed a sigh of relief. He had at least a pair. He almost never folded before the flop was out, and usually stuck around until at least the turn, the river if the bets weren’t too high and he had the chips for it. 

There were some bets, and Michele folded when it came back around to him. Yuuri saw Victor’s bet, and Phichit played with his ships a bit before shrugging and seeing the bet to stay in. 

The turn came up with another seven, and Yuuri used all his will power to resist an early celebration. Both Phichit and Victor could edge him out with the amount of chips they had, and he didn’t want to go all in yet. In fact, he didn’t want to go all in at all, especially on three of a kind. It wasn’t a great hand, but it was what he had to work with. 

Phichit folded. 

Yuuri felt like he’d been hit by a brick wall when he realized that the only other person left with chips in the pot was Victor. 

Yuuri felt a nudge from Phichit, reminding him to remain calm, and with some effort, he did. He kept himself small, shoulders slightly hunched in on himself, bent over, hoping he could bluff Victor enough to convince him that he had nothing, that Victor had the upper hand, that he wasn’t holding on to a third seven. 

Unless… unless Victor _did_ have the upper hand, like the fourth seven and a pair of tens or sixes, leaving him a full house. A pair of anything in his pocket could work in the man’s favour with the river yet to come up. Hell, if he already had a ten or a six and the river came up with another, Yuuri was screwed. 

But then, maybe that’s what Victor wanted him to think. Maybe all he actually had was the pair of sevens they both had. 

No, Yuuri couldn’t let himself get pulled into his mind games a second time. 

He felt his heart race as the river came out, and it took everything to not sigh in relief. 

The five of hearts. 

On the bright side, the five didn’t give Victor a full house unless he already had a pair of fives or a five and the fourth seven in his pocket. On the other hand, it didn’t give Yuuri a full house either. There was still a possibility that Victor had another pair in his hand to give him a full house. 

Why couldn’t there have been two more hearts? Then at least Yuuri would have a flush!

Yuuri was taking a huge gamble on his hand by staying in. 

Yuuri calmed his mind. He knew he could play against Victor. And he knew he could win. 

Victor threw in a few more chips and Yuuri raised him a few more. Victor chuckled as he saw the bet, leaning forward as he grinned, white and dangerous. “Last chance, Katsuki.” He nudged in one more chip, a green one that seemed almost taunting.

It wasn’t the most expensive chip, but it was close. 

Yuuri looked him in the eye, and tossed in a chip of his own. “I’m not folding, Nikiforov.” 

Victor’s eyebrows raised, and the grin slid from his face as his pale blue eyes hardened. Yuuri knew that Victor wasn’t used to being challenged by anyone other than Christophe or those in his inner circle. Yuuri was starting to wonder if it was a good idea to challenge the older man. If he lost, he was going to look extremely stupid. 

He couldn’t afford to think like that. He had to win. 

“Alright, gentlemen, unless there are any last bets, you can show your cards,” the dealer said. 

Victor shrugged, flipping his over to reveal the king of spades and the ten of diamonds. He had a worthy two pairs. 

Two pairs to Yuuri’s three of a kind. 

Yuuri didn’t let himself show any satisfaction as he showed his cards and started to stack up his chips. He tried to let it sink in. 

He just beat Victor Nikiforov in a hand of poker. 

A few more hands were played, but none went overly well for Yuuri. There were a couple hands that went between Victor and Chris, the pair winning four in a row between the two. 

Michele was out of chips first. He’d started getting reckless when Chris began looking over to Sara, and once the Italian was out, he slunk over to his sister, glaring back at their table every few minutes. 

Yuuri had won another pot shortly after his first, but it hadn’t been big, and his current dry spell was starting to dry him out of chips. Victor and Chris were half hiding behind their piles, continuing to chat back and forth in French and laughing. Seung-gil didn’t look to be down too many chips, tending to win the hands he stayed in for. Phichit was also looking a bit low on chips, but he still had quite a few more than Yuuri. Yuuri knew he likely only had enough chips for this last hand, and that was likely only if he went all in. 

He had to win. 

He had a pair of fours in his pocket, and the flop had produced the queen of diamonds, the six of clubs, and the seven of diamonds. 

Yuuri hoped it wouldn’t be obvious hos nervous he was. Despite being ranked so high in the qualifiers, this was his first tournament. He really didn’t want to be out so soon. 

Chris threw in a few chips and Victor saw the bet, the two grinning knowingly at each other. Seung-gil saw, and Yuuri did the same, watching his chips diminish even more. He validated it to himself that he had something. A pair, the semblance of a three or four of a kind, maybe even a full house. There were two diamonds in the flop and one more in his hand; two more and he had a flush. If a dive and either a three or an eight came up, he had a straight. 

He was in a decent place. 

Phichit kept up, though Yuuri could see a glint in his eye, one that took knowing him to see. 

The turn drew up Yuuri’s third four, and though it dashed the flush or the straight, he was still open for a full house. Chris tossed in his cards, and Victor laughed, nudging his friend’s shoulder as he checked. Seung-gil folded, Yuuri called, and Phichit followed what appeared to be the folding trend. 

Yuuri looked over to Victor as the other man threw in his chips. Yuuri tried to keep his jaw firm. The older man had to know he was in panic mode. He wasn’t sure he’d have enough for the next ante, though he’d have to count his chips up to see. 

Of course, it wouldn’t matter if he went all in. 

No, if this was Yuuri’s last hand, he wasn’t going to let Victor intimidate him into folding, not when he had nothing to lose and everything to gain. If he folded now, he wouldn’t be able to play the next hand anyways. 

The river came up with the three of spades, solidifying Yuuri’s three of a kind and whatever Victor had. 

Yuuri knew that three of a kind, especially a low one like fours, was fairly easy to beat. He knew his chances were low, but he also knew that he’d gotten lucky once that night. He hoped his luck hadn’t run out. 

Victor eyed Yuuri’s small stack of chips, and smirked, cocking his head to the side. “All in or fold, Katsuki?” he asked, sliding a small stack of his own chips into the pot. 

There was that challenge, the song of the siren that was hard to resist. Yuuri set his jaw, sliding all his chips into the pot. He was leaving on his own terms. “All in.” Even if he did pull out the win, it wouldn’t be a big one, but at least he’d be able to play another hand. And if he got the chance at one more hand, he could use that to start winning back even a portion of what he’d lost, and hope to win back more tomorrow. 

Victor chuckled, nodding along. “You’ve got some nerve, Katsuki. I like it. It makes you a good opponent and fun to play against.” 

Any other time and any other place, and Yuuri probably would have swooned or clammed up over the fact that _Victor Nikiforov_ had just complimented how he played poker. Maybe he’d have freaked out and fretted that Victor was being sarcastic, or he was just saying it to distract him. 

But he was so nervous about this one hand, not wanting this to be the end of his life in this tournament. 

He was suddenly questioning his decision to stay in and play this hand. If he’d just folded in the beginning, he would have had enough to play the nest hand, and he would have gotten better cards. 

“Alright, show your cards,” the dealer told them. 

Yuuri flipped his cards at the same time as Victor, showing off his three of a kind to Victor’s…

Yuuri felt a tear prick at the corner of his eye. 

Victor had managed a straight, holding a three and a five to complete it. 

“Oh, Yuuri,” Phichit murmured as Yuuri stood and left without a word. 

Tears were coming, and there was no way he was going to just sit there and cry in front of Victor and Christophe like a child. He’d embarrassed himself enough for one night. 

Locked in a stall in the bathroom, he let the tears flow. He placed his glasses on the toilet paper dispenser and shoved his earbuds in his pocket before holding his face in his hands. He was a failure. There was no other way to describe it. He’d fallen into Victor’s web, rammed himself into the rocks of a cliff, and let himself get devoured whole. He was an idiot for thinking he could gamble on this level, an absolute fool. 

His sobs came, but he tried to keep them soft. If no one found him crying in the bathroom after losing a tournament, then it would be a blessing. He could be left alone to his shame. Only, it took maybe five minutes for someone to come in. 

Yuuri tried his best to stifle the sniffs and sobs hitching in his throat as he heard the person walk down the line of the stalls, pausing in front of his. After another small sniffle, the person kicked the door, making Yuuri jump. Who was on the other side? What kind of person had no regard for basic human emotions and lacked the decency to find another bathroom, or at least ignore him?

Yuuri wiped his face with his sleeve and slid his glasses back on before peeking out to see who was there. 

He was met with a blond boy, his hair falling over half his face so only one bright green eye pierced into him. Yuuri had thought for a second that he was a girl at first, with his small, slender frame and hair that almost brushed his shoulders. After really looking for a moment, Yuuri realized that this was the boy who had been outside, screaming at the security guard. Phichit had called him Plisetsky. He wondered how the boy had gotten in. He couldn’t be older than sixteen, even if he held himself like he was older. 

“Well, isn’t this pathetic,” Plisetsky scoffed, crossing his arms. “You lose one little game and you run off the cry.” 

Yuuri folded in on himself, looking down. He wanted to defend himself, wanted to tell this boy that he’d been so nervous, so stressed that everything broke in that moment. He’d been so excited to come to Montreal and do well, and he'd failed his one goal in the tournament. That the boy didn’t know him, that he didn’t know what he was going through. Instead, he said nothing. The boy was right, after all. He was pathetic. Why did he think he could gamble against Victor and win? It had been a stupid dream, and nothing more. 

“Maybe you should quit now, while you’re down the money you are,” Plisetsky continued, stepping forward to get in Yuuri’s face. “Now, why don’t you get out of here, loser?”

Yuuri stepped away, making a conscious effort to not trip over his own feet as he fled from the teen. 

It wasn’t actually take long to find a dark corner away from other people where he could hide behind a couch in a small sitting area. He sunk down the wall to the ground, his face pressed into his knees. Of course he was going to wait there for Phichit. Normally he would have stayed at the table and watched over his friend’s shoulder, but he couldn’t face Victor and Chris again. Not after he’d been crying. 

It took just over an hour before his phone buzzed, and he pulled out the device to look at the text. 

_Well, I’m out. Where are you hiding?_

Yuuri smiled into his knees. He hated the part of him that was relieved that Phichit was out of the tournament too. He knew it was selfish, but Yuuri wasn’t sure he’d have been able to bear it if Phichit had moved on and got to live out the dream he’d had for years. 

He felt like a bad friend. 

Yuuri texted Phichit to meet him at the front doors. He got up, his butt numb from sitting on the floor for so long, and kept his head down as he made his way to the front doors. His hood hid his face, which he was glad for. He was almost certain it was red and splotchy from crying. He really didn’t want anyone to see him like that.

“You just got dealt shitty cards, okay? It’s not your fault. Obviously, I didn’t do well either,” Phichit said, trying to make his friend feel better. 

“Can I just crawl into bed and wallow in self-pity for the rest of the night? I really don’t feel like going out,” Yuuri said, monotone. He didn’t have the energy to but any emotion in his voice. 

Phichit laughed, draping his arm around the taller man’s shoulders. “Nope. I’m not letting you! We’re going out for drinks, whether you like it or not. You have no choice in the matter.” 

“Isn’t that considered abduction?” Yuuri asked. 

“Only if it’s against your will, and I know you’ll have a good time once we get to the bar,” Phichit replied. 

Yuuri groaned, leaning against the shorter man. He hated when Phichit was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the read! I really hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> Again, I'll get more up as soon as I can. I'm kinda not working right now, so I have a lot of time on my hands. I've been drawing a lot these days, so maybe I'll do some art for my fic too!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Phichit head back to Detroit, and Phichit drags his roommates out for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here! A bit late, but it's here! Please enjoy!

“Okay, tell me you remember something, _anything_ from last night,” Yuuri moaned when he woke up in the morning, his head pounding behind his temples. 

The last thing Yuuri remembered from the previous night was him and Phichit entering the bar just down the street. He hated that he couldn’t even remember the first drink he’d ordered.

“I wish. I just know that I drank more than I thought I would. I think someone was covering our bill, or at least bought us a few shots, because there is no way I could afford what I drank, especially if I feel like this,” Phichit replied, moving sluggishly to start packing his bags. 

They had stopped in their room before heading to the bar, changing their clothes and booking a flight back to Detroit. Sure, they could have stayed until the end of the tournament, but Yuuri didn’t want to show his face there anymore. Not after he’d failed so miserably at a game he’d been playing long before he was legal, not that poker was legal at all in Japan anyways. He would have spent their last day in Montreal in the hotel room, so why not head home? 

“Well, you know how quickly I black out, so I wouldn’t know,” Yuuri sighed, pushing his fingers through his hair. “I’m just glad we don’t have a car here, so I know we didn’t drive back. I assume we walked, but I don’t remember. Wish I knew, though.” 

“We got home safe. That’s what’s important, so stop being such a worrywart,” Phichit said, his phone already vibrating with notifications. “Victor and Christophe just got back to the casino and are playing each other. Looks like they’re playing for cash before the tournament starts up again.” 

Yuuri nodded, sitting up slowly to try not to aggravate his headache. “Let’s just get going. I’m not sure how much longer I can stand to be here, knowing my dreams have been shattered.” 

Phichit hugged his friend from behind. “Everything will be okay, Yuuri,” he murmured. “You’ll make it here again, and you’ll do better when you do. I know you will.” 

Yuuri smiled, hugging the arms looped around his neck. “Thanks, Phich. I appreciate your optimism.” 

“And I want to punch your pessimism in the balls,” the other boy replied, drawing a chuckle from Yuuri.

“I’m first in line, though.” Yuuri grinned, unwinding Phichit’s arms from his neck. “Anyways, finish packing. We have to be at the airport early, don’t forget.”

Phichit rolled his eyes before he nodded, giving Yuuri’s shoulder a pat before going back to his bags.

Yuuri felt bad for cutting his friend’s vacation short too, and had even offered to go back to Detroit on his own, but the Thai boy had insisted, and like with Yuuri, it was nearly impossible to changes Phichit’s mind once it was made up. 

Phichit went into the bathroom once his belongings were organized and his bag was mostly packed, returning only after applying concealer and foundation to the slight purplish bags under his eyes from the night before. He’d also put on eyeliner and had expertly winged it like in the YouTube makeup tutorials Yuuri knew Phichit had watched too many of. He was slightly shocked his roommate didn’t have a channel of his own makeup tutorials up. 

Yuuri went in after Phichit was done, using the toilet before combing his fingers through the tangled mess he called his hair to straighten it before fluffing it up. His eyes looked wide behind his blue-rimmed glasses, the bags under them dark and almost bruise coloured. Unlike Phichit, he couldn’t be bothered with covering them up, and would only wear makeup by force. He really wasn’t in the mood to be jumped and attacked with even foundation, and was certain he would scream at even the sight of it in his skin tone. He knew Phichit had some, and had even brought it with them, as Yuuri refused to get any for himself. 

Once he deemed himself presentable enough to be on a plane, he left the bathroom to find Phichit on the other side, holding a Styrofoam cup of shitty hotel coffee out to him. “It’s better than nothing,” he said, voice bleak, as though he was regretful to punish them both with the dark sludge. 

Yuuri accepted the cup anyways, agreeing with his friend’s logic, and took a long first drink, trying to burn the remanence of the alcohol away with the terrible coffee. All he did instead was burn the taste buds on his tongue. As usual. “We still have an hour before we have to leave. Anything you can think of that you want to do before we leave?”

“One last drink before we go? You know, while I’m still legal,” Phichit asked, a grin stretching across his face. 

“No. There is absolutely no way I’m boarding a flight to the US with you if you’ve had even a drop of alcohol,” Yuuri hissed, taking another sip of his coffee, even if he wasn’t sure it could be classified as such. He supposed it looked like coffee, but there was no way the dark, flavourless liquid in his mouth was coffee. 

Phichit stuck his tongue out at Yuuri. “You’re boring.” 

“I’m practical. I don’t feel like having to bail your ass out when you get stuck at the border for under age consumption. You may not know this, but I just lost a lot of money playing poker,” Yuuri said, cocking an unimpressed eyebrow. 

Phichit grinned. Oh, come on. We can go win some back when we get home. You know Ciao Ciao will be happy to have us back at his tables. Even if we only play each other, we usually draw a decent crowd. We walk in there, and Ciao Ciao all but throws chips our way,” Phichit said. 

It was true. The owner of an eighteen plus casino close to their apartment adored them, and would do almost anything to get them to play because of the crowd they drew. It was a known fact that Yuuri and Phichit were good for business. There was a sizeable number of regulars who wanted to try to beat them and figure out their tells. It didn’t usually work out well, and even when they did, it only tended to be by a slim margin. 

“I don’t know, Phich. I’m not sure I feel up to gambling in the immediate future,” Yuuri admitted, pulling the hood of his hoodie over his hair, like he was trying to hide from his friend. Plisetsky’s words ran through his head again, telling him it was his time to quit. Maybe a break wouldn’t be a bad idea. 

“Oh, come on, Yuuri. You can’t just quit because you lost in one tournament,” Phichit said, giving Yuuri a look. “Poker is a lot of luck. The cards weren’t in your favour last night, that’s all. At least come to Ciao Ciao’s with me tonight, even if you don’t play.” 

“Why? So I can be convinced or even forced to play?” Yuuri hated how much Phichit could persist, and he hated how easily he could be worn down even more. “Fine. But I’m not picking up any card or touching even a single chip.” 

Phichit threw his arms around Yuuri, making the older boy’s stomach churn. As much as Yuuri had need those drinks he’d had the night before, he hated that a hangover seemed to have been the required trade off. “You’re the best, Yuuri! Ciao Ciao will be thrilled you’re at least there.” 

“Let’s just get to the airport, if there’s nothing else you want to do while we’re here,” Yuuri mumbled, rubbing one eye under his glasses. Better to be way too early than late, especially on an international flight. Sure, they were only in Canada, but they were still crossing an international border. 

Phichit rolled his eyes, but grabbed his bags, keeping his phone in hand. “Yes, mom. Now go do your final room examination to make sure we got everything before we go. We don’t need you to spontaneously combust because you forgot the travel bottle of shampoo we’re going to lose when we get home anyways.” 

Yuuri rolled his eyes and made a face, but commenced his checks, looking under the pillows and beds before patting down the blankets and loosely making the beds, even though he knew that they would be ripped apart and changed within the next couple hours anyways. He entered the bathroom, looking across the counter and shaking out the towels in the shower. When those proved negative and the tub’s lip was vacant of their soap and shampoo, he triple checked the outlets for chargers, then looked in the drawers in the TV stand, desk, and night table, none of which they had even opened until that moment. 

“I swear you look for shit the last people left too. There is no reason for being this thorough,” Phichit said, keeping his voice light and teasing. In truth, Yuuri knew Phichit would rather Yuuri look hard and find something they’d forgotten than leave it behind and go without it before it was either sent to them, or they bought a new one. Heaven forbid it was Phichit’s phone charger.

When Yuuri finally deemed the room clear of their belongings, he took his bags and followed Phichit to the elevator, where the Thai boy called for a cab. They waited in the lobby for a few minutes before heading out front to wait.

The two boys sat in the back seat together as the driver took them to the airport. Yuuri looked out the window, watching the buildings of old Montreal pass by as Phichit took pictures before tapping away on his phone. God knew what had Phichit so engrossed in the device. 

Getting through security wasn’t too bad. Once they were through, they found the gate their flight would be departing from, and took a seat to wait. They had a couple hours to wait, after all. May as well get comfortable. 

“Aww, Yuuri! My babies miss me!” Phichit sighed, leaning over to show Yuuri a photo of his three hamsters back in Detroit. “They must miss their Uncle Yuuri too.” 

“Please stop calling me that. It makes them sound like they’re human babies,” Yuuri said. “And I am way too young to be called Uncle Yuuri.” 

“Don’t your friends’ kids back in Hasetsu call you Uncle Yuuri when they call?” Phichit challenged. 

Yuuri groaned. “Just because they do doesn’t mean I’m not too young for it. And I’m trying to make them stop.” 

“Your sister is like thirty, isn’t she? Under other circumstances, she could have kids right now, probably the age of the triplets,” Phichit said, making Yuuri shiver. Mari with kids… he just couldn’t picture it. “Anyways, I think it’s cute. Those girls look up to you. You know that.” For a poker player, Phichit wasn’t doing a good job of hiding the amusement on his face. 

“I know they do. I just hope I can be a good influence on them. They’re so young and impressionable. I don’t want them to know me just for my poker playing.” Yuuri sighed, slouching in his seat. 

“Oh, come on. Imagine them talking about their Uncle Yuuri, the internationally ranked poker player. Doesn’t that sound cool?”

“I guess so, until you take into consideration the fact that gambling is frowned upon in Japan, and in most cases, illegal.” Yuuri shook his head. He knew playing at his family’s onsen when he was young had been against the law, but he’d done it anyways because he was good at it, and his parents hadn’t discouraged it the way they probably should have, especially when he’d started showing promise. It was part of why he’d decided to go to America for school. He wanted the chance to get even better in a place where it wasn’t illegal. 

Phichit’s brows pulled together. “Right. I keep forgetting about that.” 

Yuuri nodded, then smirked, and chuckle hitching in his chest. “What do you think the odds are that we’ll get pulled into secondary when we tell the American customs that we’re returning from a poker tournament? I think they’ll search us for undeclared cash, even when we tell them we lost miserably.” 

“Man, I can’t even make a bet against you on that! I’m certain it’ll happen,” Phichit laughed. 

They passed the wait until their flight by looking through pictures of Phichit’s hamsters and Yuuri’s poodle, new photos coming in constantly from their roommate, Luke. He was always happy to watch the pets when Yuuri and Phichit travelled, and they did the same for his kitten when he went back to Canada to visit his family and boyfriend if he didn’t want to bring the cat with him. 

Despite being such a short flight, both boys fell asleep against each other before the plane even left the runway. They had to be woken by a flight attendant, and leaned against each other as they made their way for the exit, only to stop and go back when they realized that they had forgotten their carry-ons. They giggled as they left, a bit more awake than before. Yuuri was relieved that his headache had subsided a bit more, and was, in fact, almost completely gone. 

As expected, they got pulled into secondary together when their declarations claimed that they weren’t in possession of over ten thousand dollars cash after a poker tournament. The border guard looked at them doubtfully, like he thought they were stupid for trying to hide their money from him, even though they’d already explained that they had lost and come back early, as they had had no reason to stick around Montreal. 

He went off to validate their claims, and Yuuri wondered if his faint Japanese accent at all supported the stereotype the Americas seemed to have that Japanese people didn’t know English well, no matter how untrue it was. He and Phichit traded amused glances until the man came back. He searched their luggage and then did a body search, counting up what money they did have, which, between the two of them, only totalled three hundred eighty six dollars USD. Because they were doing nothing wrong, they were let go. 

Maybe Yuuri had watched too much _Border Security_ since he’d come to America…

Oh well. He knew that he wasn’t doing anything wrong, and he had been let into the country. He had nothing to hide, and his student visa was still valid. He was still very much enrolled and attending school in Detroit, as was Phichit. 

When they got to the departures area, Luke was there with Yuuri’s dog on his leash, the puppy’s tail wagging back and forth when he saw his master. 

“Vicchan!” Yuuri cried, dropping to his knees to scratch his dog’s ears. 

“Good to see you too, Yuuri.” Their roommate chuckled, dropping the loop of the leash on Yuuri’s head. Vicchan didn’t really need it, tending to stick close to Yuuri or whoever he was familiar with without extra prompting. The leash was merely a formality, as most places required dogs to be on a leash. 

“Don’t take it personally. He’s been super emotional the last couple days. He needs Vicchan’s comfort right now,” Phichit said, awkwardly resting his elbow on their roommate’s shoulder, despite being significantly shorter by almost a head than the other man. “How have you been, Luke? We kinda left you alone for three days. Have you burned down the apartment with your cooking yet?”

That brought a small smile to Yuuri’s lips, a small giggle bubbling from his lips. 

Luke just rolled his eyes. “No. I ate some take out and raided the fridge for leftovers. The katsudon was just too tempting.” 

“Wait. You ate my katsudon?” Yuuri wailed, looking utterly betrayed by the Hispanic man before him. “How could you?”

“Because I had to eat, and it was going to be bad by the time you guys were supposed to be home,” Luke groaned. “I’m sorry, but you can always make more! It’s always better fresh anyways. I can do my best to help, even if I’m usually more of a hindrance than a help.” 

Yuuri had to agree that the food would have been bad if it had sat there a couple more days, and that katsudon was best fresh out of the pan, not reheated in the microwave. There was just something about the pork that was better if it hadn’t been sitting in the refrigerator for a few days. It still sucked that his katsudon had been eaten, though. He’d been looking forward to eating it when he got home all morning. It may not have been his mother’s katsudon, and it may have had to been thrown in the microwave for a few minutes, but it would have been better than nothing. 

Yuuri knew it wouldn’t take much convincing to make more. It wasn’t his favourite comfort food for nothing. 

Luke took Yuuri’s suitcase as the Japanese boy picked up his dog, holding him close to his chest. 

Luke packed their luggage into the trunk of his car, and Yuuri sat in the back seat with Vicchan in his lap, letting Phichit ride shotgun. Yuuri looked out the window, scratching Vicchan’s head, while Luke drove the exact or just under the speed limit. The familiar Detroit cityscape flew by, and Yuuri kept his fingers in the poodle’s curly fur. The pup seemed to feel his owner’s distress, and nuzzled at Yuuri’s cheek, tiny paws braced against the boy’s collarbone. 

Yuuri was glad his poodle knew him so well, and knew what he needed. 

When they got back to their apartment building, Luke offered to take Yuuri’s suitcase again, but the Japanese boy shook his head. “Thank you, but I think I’ve got it,” Yuuri murmured. 

He put Vicchan down, the loop of the leash around his wrist as he threw his backpack over his other shoulder and took his suitcase from the trunk. 

Luke led the way upstairs after letting Yuuri take Vicchan out to do his business, opening their apartment door to let Yuuri and Phichit in. 

After dropping his stuff in his room, Yuuri unclipped the leash from Vicchan’s collar, letting the puppy run free through the apartment.

Yuuri decided to unpack later, opting instead to pull on some comfier clothes, and curl up on the couch with a blanket.

Phichit emerged from his room with his hamsters; one sitting on his shoulder, another on his head, and the third in his hands as he cooed at them. “I missed you guys so much. Yes I did! Did you have fun with Uncle Luke?”

“Please stop calling me that. I’m not an uncle,” Luke groaned, dropping himself into the armchair. 

Phichit sat next to Yuuri, letting the older boy lay out with his feet in his lap. “Why don’t you want to be uncles to my fur babies? Either of you?”

“Because we’re not old enough!” Yuuri and Luke shouted at the same time before looking at each other and laughing. 

“Alright, alright. I get it. My poor babies.” Phichit sighed melodramatically as he rubbed his cheek against the head of the hamster in his hands. 

Yuuri rolled his eyes, pulling out his phone. “D-do you guys mind if I play my phone on the TV?” he asked quietly, hiding most of his face in his blanket, leaving only his wide eyes uncovered. 

Phichit laughed, plucking the device from his friend’s fingers, the tips of which were also exposed. Phichit unlocked the phone and plugged it in to the HDMI cable, knowing it would already have the poker stream up. It was no surprise that it was. 

It was focussed on Victor’s table, and even though it had started maybe fifteen minutes ago, one of the six players was already out, and Victor was sitting behind a large stack of chips.

Yuuri sighed dreamily. Only Victor was amazing enough to clean someone out in fifteen minutes. 

“So, Yuuri’s poker player did pretty good yesterday, I see,” Luke said, throwing his legs over one of the chair’s arms. 

Yuuri sunk lower, into his pile of blankets as Phichit took his seat again, pulling the Japanese boy’s legs back into his lap. 

“Yuuri’s poker player wiped us both out yesterday. He’s good at bluffing, but when he has a hand, he has a damn good hand.” Phichit shrugged. “What can I say? He’s good.” 

“Yuuri’s poker player has a name. And it’s Victor,” Yuuri squeaked, eyes trained on the TV. “Either he has something and bets like it, or he has nothing and bluffs like hell. He doesn’t usually play if he has something mediocre.” He looked mesmerized by the silver haired man on the screen, like every word he said was law. “And it’s like he can see into the future. He knows the cards that are coming his way, knows how everyone else is going to play. It’s incredible.” And at that moment, Yuuri was lost to the world as he watched Victor Nikiforov toss chips across the table, eyes bright. 

He missed Luke cock his pierced eyebrow at Phichit, and didn’t feel Phichit’s responding shrug. 

He was so enraptured in Victor and the poker playing that the world could have lit up in a fiery blaze around him, and Yuuri wouldn’t have noticed a thing. 

Nothing else seemed to matter to Yuuri when Victor was playing poker. 

~`~

“I can’t believe you guys convinced me to go to Celestino’s again,” Luke said with a sigh as they walked up to the old brick building housing Yuuri and Phichit’s favourite casino.

“Don’t worry, Luke. I didn’t want to come either,” Yuuri mumbled, shoving his hands deep into the pouch of his hoodie. He fiddled with the corner of his phone case, popping it off and on to give his hands something to do. 

Luke took a step back from him, examining the Japanese boy with a raised eyebrow. “ _You_ didn’t want to come?” 

“I know. Shocking isn’t it?” Phichit said, slinging an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders. “He’s being a poor sport because of yesterday.”

“Actually, I wanted to keep watching poker, not play it,” Yuuri mumbled, brows scrunching together as he pouted. 

“Actually, you wanted to keep watching Victor play poker,” the Thai boy replied. “Which you know Ciao Ciao will have on. If its’s still going on, that is. It’ll probably be close to over for tonight soon anyways.”

“And what if he doesn’t have it on?” Yuuri challenged. 

“Then I’ll ask him to put it on. You know he can’t resist me.” Phichit winked at Yuuri and grinned the angelic way he knew got him anything he wanted. 

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Again, I’m not sure I’ll even want to play tonight. I don’t exactly have money to spare right now.”

“We can get Ciao Ciao to break out the smaller chips, play lower. He usually gets more players that way anyways.” Phichit leaned in closer. “You have no excuses that will work on me. We will play tonight.” 

Yuuri let out a long sigh. “I’m not starting right away, if I play at all.” He had to stay firm on at least one front. 

Phichit threw his arms around Yuuri. “All I’m hearing is that you’re finally agreeing to play!”

Yuuri rolled his eyes, but continued to follow the shorter boy as they entered the Celestino’s casino, Luke shaking his head as he went. 

It was like a spotlight shone on them the moment they stepped through the doors; all heads turned and eyes fell on them. Ciao Ciao ran over immediately, a grin stretched across his face and glee dancing in his eyes. 

“Phichit! Yuuri!” the Italian man said, pulling the two into a hug. “Welcome home! It’s been quiet without the two of you at the tables. It’s too bad you couldn’t still be in Montreal playing, though. If you had been against anyone else, I know you’d still be in.” 

“Nah, I’d probably be out by now anyways. Yuuri would have gone all the way, though. That, I know,” Phichit said, grinning at his friend. 

“You’re better than you give yourself credit for,” Celestino said, loosely guiding the men toward the poker tables. “How many are playing? Just two? All three?”

“Just two. Unless you want to join, Luke?” Phichit looked to the other man, who was hanging back a bit. 

“I’ll just watch, thanks,” Luke replied with his kind smile. “Thanks, though.” 

“And is it okay if we break out the smaller chips tonight? Coming off of our losses, you can imagine we don’t have as much cash as to play with as we usually do,” Phichit said, taking out the bag he kept his extra chips in. Both he and Yuuri had been allowed to keep a portion of their winnings in chips, in case they wanted to play poker one night and, like that night, were low on funds. 

As Phichit started picking out chips to trade in, he dropped Yuuri’s bag down on the counter next to him before Yuuri could get out any protests or use his lack of money or chips as an excuse. 

With a groan, Yuuri’s last bit of resolve diminished and he started digging through his bag for chips he had an overabundance of to trade out. He knew there was no more fighting it. Phichit, no matter what, wouldn’t let him. 

He and Phichit agreed on the buy-in amount to start with, then took their chips to a free table Celestino had gotten ready for them. Yuuri sighed as he got settled and organized, glaring at the other boy out of the corner of his eye. 

Once they started playing, a crowd instantly formed around them. People wanted to watch, and then they wanted to join in against the internationally ranked players. Once they had more players, Phichit leaned over between hands, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Why don’t you play a couple hands like you’re Victor?” 

“No,” Yuuri hissed without hesitation.   
“Oh, come on. I’ll play a few like I’m Chris and strip mid-way through, if it makes you feel better,” Phichit offered with a shrug. 

“Don’t you dare,” Yuuri snapped, his eyes gleaming with a warning. 

“At least gamble like Victor would. It’ll be fun,” Phichit insisted. 

Yuuri sighed, but nodded. He was in no way in control of what was happening this evening. He may as well make Phichit feel good about himself. Yuuri rolled his shoulders back, trying to pull on a more confident persona, one he felt was similar to Victor. He slid to the front of his seat, crossing his ankles just behind the front legs, and leaned forward as his cards were dealt. 

He was holding onto the three of spades and the queen of clubs. The flop brought up the eight and four of clubs and the seven of hearts. He had the beginnings of a flush, but nothing solid yet. No one knew that, though.

_What would Victor do?_

“Raise,” Yuuri said, tossing in a few extra chips, meeting the eyes of the man who stared back at him. Yuuri quirked his brow at him, then smiled as serenely as he could, trying to imitate Victor’s angelic look the best he could. 

“Fold,” the man said when the bet got around to him. A couple others folded, making Yuuri smirk in satisfaction. 

Had this been the secret the whole time? Faking a little confidence? It could have worked at the tournament, if he’d known that. Then again, he was sure he would have crumbled in front of Victor no matter what.

The turn brought up the seven of clubs, giving Yuuri and everyone else at least a pair. Yuuri was one step closer to his flush, but still had nothing concrete. He kept an innocent, unassuming look on his face as he doubled the bet when it got to him. 

“Oh, come on, Yuuri,” Phichit groaned, debating for just a moment before tossing more chips in to see the bet. The only other person still playing, a woman, put in her portion. 

The river gave them the five of diamonds, and dashed Yuuri’s dreams of a flush. He threw in more chips anyways, forcing Phichit and the woman to either see the bet and have faith in their cards, or fold. 

Phichit deliberated, checking his cards, counting his chips, before shaking his head and tossing in his cards. “I have to fold,” he said, and the other woman nodded, following suit. 

Yuuri smirked, looking at Phichit’s full house, eights over sevens, and the three of a kind the woman had been holding onto. He stared his friend in the eye as he revealed his cards before pulling the pot towards him. “Thanks for the advice, Phich,” he said with a wink. 

“Fuck you, Yuuri! If I’d known what I was encouraging, I never would have suggested it,” Phichit hissed as Yuuri stacked up his chips. 

“And yet, you did,” Yuuri purred, tossing in his ante for the next hand. 

“Nice going, Yuuri!” Luke said, draping himself over the back of the Japanese boy’s chair. 

Yuuri smiled in self-satisfaction. “Thanks, Luke.” 

He played a few more hands that way, trying his best to imitate Victor, even if it was still a bit closer to how he would play, just with more confidence. He’d fold if he only had a pair, and even hands where he had up to three of a kind. He went hard if he had nothing, and even harder when he had what he deemed really good cards. 

All in all, he was the only one to draw a profit from the table, multiple people losing all their chips and getting replaced by others, who had the same happen to them. He was satisfied to be starting to make back what he’d lost just twenty-four hours ago, even if it wasn’t much.

He cashed in about half his winnings before leaving with Luke and Phichit. 

“Man, that was amazing!” Luke said as they made their way back to the apartment. “I’ve never seen you gamble like that before!” 

“I’ll admit, it was pretty hot, looking back. Borderline sexy,” Phichit admitted, making Yuuri turn a bright shade of red. “Not so much in the moment. For me, at least. I found it annoying, losing so miserably when I could have won if I’d just seen your bet.” 

“Stop making me sound like I’m so much better than I really am. I’m not that good! Plus, that wasn’t really me playing. That was Victor,” Yuuri replied, sinking back into his hoodie. 

“No, that was you. A you that hides deep down, but a you all the same, and it was incredible,” Phichit said. 

Yuuri sighed, knowing that there was no winning with Phichit, even if Yuuri knew he was right. There was no way Yuuri could go into a tournament and play like that. He’d be found out in no time, and then he’d get picked apart and destroyed, hand after hand after hand. 

And he knew that he’d only make a fool of himself in front of Victor, never mind the whole world. He just couldn’t gamble like that on the world stage. 

The tournament was long over for the night by the time they got home. He scooped Vicchan into his arms and retreated to his room, changing into sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt with cartoon dogs on it. Even though Montreal was in the same time zone as Detroit, and he’d slept on the plane, Yuuri was exhausted. He knew it was left over stress from the tournament, but that knowledge didn’t change the fact that he just wanted to sleep. 

It also didn’t chance that he had a paper due in less than thirty-six hours, and he was only half way through the brainstorming for it. 

He pulled out his books, knowing that he wanted to at least write a decent outline before he passed out if he wanted to be certain that he’d have some free time the next evening, and something decent to hand in. He’d best get to work. 

At least he knew what he was writing about, he told himself, and he had a few strong examples down to prove his point. He opened his textbooks, flipping through page after page of text, looking for more that supported his stance. 

It went well for almost fifteen minutes. That was about when the words started to jumble and blur into blobs on the page, the letters becoming little more than alphabet soup as his brain refused to make sense of what he was reading, no matter how many times he tried to reread the paragraphs.

Just after his face hit the page and he allowed sleep to take him, he felt something warm lap his cheek. Opening his eyes, he saw a brown blob in front of him, two dark circles staring at him before the blob itself woofed. 

Yuuri smiled, putting his glasses on properly again. “Thank you, Vicchan,” he murmured, reaching out and petting the poodle. 

He folded up his books in a way that saved all the pages he needed, and dropped them on the floor. 

Vicchan hopped across the blankets, excited to go to bed. His little tail wagged so hard his whole back end moved back and forth. 

Yuuri laughed at the poodle, as he pulled the blankets back and crawled in, holding them up for the pup to crawl under. Vicchan curled up against Yuuri’s chest, and he smiled at his pup. He removed his glasses, placing them on his night table before clicking off the lamp. 

He rolled over onto his side, curling around his dog. Vicchan shifted, letting his owner get comfortable before getting settled in again. 

“Good night, Vicchan,” Yuuri murmured, kissing the top of his poodle’s head. He savoured the comfort of the small body next to him, wishing he could feel it forever. 

Vicchan let out a small yip in response, nuzzling his head into Yuuri’s arm before resting his chin on it with a sigh. Vicchan’s eyes fluttered shut, and his breathing evened out. He breathed out heavily, borderline of a snore. 

Yuuri let out a pleasant hum before closing his eyes and letting sleep take him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got the next chapter written, so I'm hoping the wait for Chapter Three won't be as long as the wait for this one! (Then again, that was my thought behind this one too…) 
> 
> Anyways, thank you so much for your patience!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still alive! And so is this fic! So sorry about the poor update schedule. I haven't had a lot of time to write this fic lately, partly because of work, partly because I've been working on getting better at digital art, and partly because I've been writing and drawing for the YoI Angst Zine, which I am so excited to be a part of. 
> 
> Also, this is my first real attempt at writing a sex scene (It's near the end, after the POV change), so I know it's not good, but I tried! Also, I'm upping the rating for this story because of it.

“And with that, Victor Nikiforov of Russia has won again,” Morooka Hisashi announced on the TV screen before going into detail about how it was Victor’s fifth straight win at that same tournament in a row. 

Yuuri smiled to himself, before looking back to his laptop screen, where most of his paper was written. Despite falling asleep early the previous night and waking up late that morning, Yuuri had made unusually quick work of his assignment. He was grateful the words had basically written themselves. The writing part didn’t usually come as naturally as it was. Then again, he tended to write better when he was watching Victor play poker. 

He had his paper done shortly after dinnertime, though he hadn’t actually stopped to have anything to eat. He had been so focussed on writing and editing his essay that he hadn’t paid much attention to the time or his body’s needs. He was glad Phichit had fed Vicchan and taken him to go to the bathroom before heading out to the casino again. Luke was hiding in his bedroom for his nightly Skype call with his boyfriend and a quiet place to draw. 

Even though it was after seven, Yuuri was sure that at least Luke hadn’t eaten yet either, if not both his roommates. So, he threw on a new batch of rice in the rice cooker, and put a pan of oil on the stove to cook some pork cutlets. He breaded the pork before turning on the element, waiting for the pan to get hot before dropping the cutlets in. 

The sizzling had just started when Luke left his room, phone held out in front of him. “Oh my god, Codes, Yuuri is making katsudon again right now. I wish you could come down and have some. You have no clue what you’re missing out on.” 

“I can imagine, babe,” the boy on the other end replied. “It’s all I hear about. Hey, Yuuri!” 

“Hey, Cody!” Yuuri smiled and waved when Luke brought the camera around to get him in the frame. “You really should come visit sometime.” 

“I have, but you and Phichit were out of state for a poker tournament that same weekend.” Cody sighed. “I guess I’ll have to come down again soon so I can try this katsudon I’m always hearing about.” 

“I’d be happy to make you a bowl some time,” Yuuri smiled, then looked to Luke. “I assume you’re having some?” 

“If there’s enough for me,” Luke replied. 

“You know I tend to make enough food for half a dozen people.” Yuuri laughed. He didn’t know why he did, but it just seemed to happen that way. On the bright side, it meant that there were always leftovers for when they had classes that ran late and they didn’t feel like cooking. Phichit would cook if no one else would, and his food was good, but Luke couldn’t make a bag of microwave popcorn without risking burning the place down. The kitchen had almost caught fire the last time he’d tried to cook something in the microwave. He’d been banned from all cooking duties since. Thankfully, Cody sounded like he was at least proficient in the kitchen. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.” 

Luke nodded, and went back to his room, chatting to his boyfriend about his day and classes and listening to Cody talk about his. 

Yuuri sighed when he was on his own again. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, there was a part of him that wanted what Luke had. Someone who loved him unconditionally, no matter how far apart they lived. Someone who would call him every night and chat about their days, make sure he was okay. Sure, he did that and more with Phichit, but he wanted something more, and he just didn’t see himself with Phichit in that way. Phichit was his best friend, and he knew Phichit felt the same way. 

Yuuri moved to the fridge to grab some veggies and as he made his way back to the counter, he tripped over something on the floor, stumbling the rest of the way. Looking down, he found his poodle looking up at him with his puppy grin, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, and his eyes wide and hopeful. He just sat in the middle of the kitchen, like he was supposed to be there and Yuuri was the one out of place. His eyes shifted from Yuuri to the food on the counter, then back to his master. 

“Out!” Yuuri commanded, pointing to the door. “Stay out.” 

Vicchan stood, head and tail hanging low as he slowly left the kitchen like he was waiting for Yuuri to call him back. As soon as he crossed the boundary into the dining room, he turned around, staring up at Yuuri, his eyes wide and hopeful once again. 

Yuuri sighed, shaking his head. He was glad that he was immune to Vicchan’s charms, or the poor pup would be rolling around the apartment instead of trotting. Luke, on the other hand, had no self-control when it came to the pets, happily handing over half his plate to whoever sat at his feet to beg for it. 

As though hearing Vicchan’s dilemma, Jazz, Luke’s cat, sauntered right by the puppy and hopped up on the counter, getting a couple strokes down her back from Yuuri before sitting next to the sink. It earned a whimper from Vicchan, who looked completely crestfallen. 

Yuuri turned on the tap for the cat. He didn’t know why the ragdoll felt the need to drink from the facet. Vicchan never touched her water bowl, yet she still refused to drink from it. After one last stroke from the top of her head to the end of her tail, Jazz stepped into the sink to get a drink as Yuuri tended to the cutlets again. Vicchan let out another whine, laying down with his chin on the floor, tail moving his whole back end back and forth.

Yuuri couldn’t help but laugh. When and how had his life become a zoo?

He used a pair of chopsticks to turn the pork cutlets, then moved over to the counter to start chopping the vegetables. 

He wasn’t a chef or an expert, but he’d grown up loving food, especially his mother’s home cooking. His parents owned an inn, after all, and he’d helped his mother in the kitchen sometimes, which had helped his cooking abilities, especially his knife skills. All his cuts were quick, even and precise, leaving thin slices of carrot, long ribbons of red cabbage, and small ringlets of green onion, just to add a bit more colour and another food group to the dish. It wasn’t his mother’s katsudon, but it spoke of it. His mother had always encouraged him to experiment in the kitchen, and Yuuri had. Even if it was simply the addition of some extra veggies, or the fact that they had to buy some cheap, American brand crumbs to bread the cutlets, he still gave it his all, and the result was almost always good. Even if he ate all the veggies first just to get rid of them, they gave the dish a burst of freshness, cutting through the heaviness of the fried pork. 

He’d always been glad that his mother had let him help in the kitchen when he’d still lived at home. It had certainly helped him later in life. Maybe someone should have done the same with Luke when he’d been young. Yuuri hoped that his boyfriend really could cook, because if not, then Yuuri feared for both of their future health. 

Once deeming the pork cutlets perfectly browned, he laid them on some paper towel on a plate, then got out two bowls and started filling them with rice. He assembled the bowls and set them both on the table, making sure all the chairs were tucked in so Vicchan couldn’t get up on the table, before going to get Luke. 

Luke’s room was an artist’s retreat. He had stacks of sketchbooks next to his desk almost tall enough to act as extra work space. He had containers of markers and coloured pencils on the desk against the wall, some of his favourite drawings and paintings hanging on the walls, most of them being of either Cody or his foster family. Luke himself was sprawled out on his bed, sketchbook open next to him, though it was abandoned. All Luke’s attention was on his phone. 

“Luke, dinner’s ready,” Yuuri murmured, standing awkwardly in the doorway. 

Luke looked up and nodded. “Thanks, Yuuri. I’ll be there in a minute.” 

Yuuri nodded and retreated back to the kitchen. 

Jazz had disappeared form the sink, so he turned off the tap on his way to get a fork and chopsticks from the cutlery drawer. 

After finishing setting the table, Yuuri sat in his usual chair, crossing his legs under him and pulling his phone out to wait. He hated eating without his roommates if he knew they were eating too, so he checked on what the players from the tournament were doing. Namely Victor. 

The silver haired man appeared to be heading out to celebrate his pulling ahead with Chris. Mila Babecheva and Georgi Popovich were in the background too, looking like they were in the middle of cheering for something. Yuri sighed, his eyes settling on Victor. Of course he was going out with his inner circle. Yuuri wished he could be a part of it, or even be there to celebrate his own success. 

“Okay, seriously? You guys make this less funny every time,” Luke whined as he entered, snapping Yuuri out of his self-pity. 

He looked up to find Luke snatching up the fork to replace it with chopsticks of his own. Yuuri and Phichit had teased him relentlessly since he’d moved in about his use of chopsticks. He enjoyed using them, and he could to an extent, but he wasn’t entirely competent with them, no matter how many times they had tried to teach him the right way. 

They’d been teasing him for so long that they’d thought Luke would have figured out who had started it. He’d gone back and forth for months, trying to pick out the little details and figure out who the real liar was. Turns out it’s hard to interrogate international poker players when they were trying to frame the other. 

For the record, it had been Yuuri’s idea. 

Yuuri’s lips quirked, the corners curling up. Luke pointed at him. “It was you!” 

Yuuri shook his head, taking up his chopsticks. “It was Phichit.” 

“You’re such a good liar,” Luke sighed before slumping in his chair. “Unless… you’re telling the truth. God, I hate you both.” 

Yuuri grinned. He couldn’t have asked for better roommates. They all loved tormenting each other, but at the end of the day, they were all great friends. 

They finally started eating in companionable silence, the tapping of their chopsticks against their bowls the only soundtrack in the room. 

“Yuuri, can I ask you something?” Luke asked quietly. 

Yuuri looked up, frowning. Luke was hunched over his bowl, his eyes trained on his food. “Is it so bad that you have to ask if you can ask?”

Luke took a deep breath. “I hear rumours at school, and I see the way you and Phichit act around each other. I just want to know if you guys are together. It’s totally cool if you are! I’ve got a boyfriend, you both know that. And you can be a couple around the apartment if you want. It’s fine by me.” 

Yuuri blinked a few times, then burst out laughing. “Luke, you have no idea how often people ask us if we’re going out, and a lot just assume we are. It doesn’t bother me anymore. It used to, when I wasn’t so secure in my sexuality, but I used the assumption to come out. We may or may not have had a minor make out session in front of half the school one day.” He could feel his cheeks brighten at the memory. “We tried dating for probably a week before realizing we were putting too much pressure on ourselves because of it, and happily went back to being friends. I mean, he’s like my brother.” 

Luke nodded. “I’m glad you have a great friend like Phichit. I’m pretty sure the guy I call my best friend still at least half believes that I’m faking my relationship with Cody, or that Cody has been blackmailing me.” 

“Some friend,” Yuuri scoffed. 

Luke smirked. “Right? Can you tell we’ve grown distant since high school?” 

“Oh my god! My night! You guys should have come… and why did you guys have katsudon without me?” Phichit whined, freezing in the middle of the living room when he saw and smelled the fried pork. “You know how unfair that is, Yuuri! You can’t do that to me!” 

Yuuri rolled his eyes, standing up. “Would you like me to put a bowl together for you? Or would you rather stay there and sulk?” 

“Is that even a question?” Phichit cocked an eyebrow at him. 

Yuuri chuckled, getting up to prepare Phichit a bowl as the younger boy took his seat at the table. He was filled with content as he brought Phichit’s bowl and a pair of chopsticks to him. Maybe it was because he was the oldest by a couple years, and he felt a protectiveness over his roommates. He’d stepped into an almost parental role for them here, being possibly the most sensible of them, and the most willing to cook, even though Phichit was often happy to share his favourite dishes from Thailand. 

“Yuuri, why doesn’t he have a fork?” Phichit asked as Yuuri sat back down to resume his meal. 

“Oh, fuck off, Chulanont!” Luke hissed, hunching over his bowl again to hide the atrocious way he was holding his chopsticks as he continued to awkwardly shovling food in his mouth, despite dropping most of it on the table. 

Yuuri grinned. It didn’t matter how down he felt in a day; his mood was instantly lifted when the three of them got around the table with its mismatch chairs. They could all sit around and laugh for hours, and it was enough to lift anyone’s spirits. 

“Alright, Phichit,” Yuuri said, digging back into his food, and looking to the Thai boy. “What happened tonight?” 

“You made katsudon without me. You don’t deserve to know,” Phichit replied, already shoving food in his mouth. 

“Okay. Fine by me.” Yuuri shrugged and turned to Luke, who chuckled with a grin plastered across his face. 

After exactly seven seconds of silence –Yuuri had been counting –Phichit let out a loud groan. “Fine, I’ll tell you! Stop persisting!” 

Yuuri raised a knowing eyebrow at his friend. Phichit had the biggest mouth of anyone he knew. If he had something he wanted to share, he would share it eventually. 

“I won so much tonight! And against some decent players too,” Phichit said, eyes bright. “It’s a start for our next tournament.” 

“Good job, Phich.” Yuuri smiled.

“Honestly, that whole play like Chris and Victor thing works wonders! Betting like your shit hand is good works much better than when your hand actually is good. I know it’s part of the game, but I have so many regrets for playing so conservative for so long.” Phichit sighed. 

When everyone was done eating, Luke helped with the wash up while Yuuri put away the extra food, setting aside a small bowl of rice to take to his room before retreating there with Vicchan, taking his laptop with them. 

He printed off his paper after one last read through for errors. When that was done, he started scouring the internet for videos from the tournament. Of course, there were a few articles about him and his failure. It was to be expected, and he avoided reading them… mostly. They tried to sound like they knew what they were talking about and what happened, even when they knew little to nothing at all. It wasn’t surprising, though. It’s what the tabloids did. All they wanted was a story to tell. 

It didn’t take long to find footage of Victor when he actually started looking. There was an abundance of both professional and amateur video. 

Curled up with Vicchan under his arm, he watched Victor do what he did best. He avoided videos of his own table, not wanting to relive the disappointment that night had been so soon. He knew that the commentators’ thoughts and opinions wouldn’t help, no matter how sympathetic they were or tried to be. 

Watching Victor play in a video was nothing after seeing the real deal in person. Yuuri could see his eyes analyzing his cards, the community cards, and the expressions on his opponents’ faces. Yuuri watched him closely, trying to find the slightest shift in his face or posture that said he’d gotten good cards as opposed to bad cards. A twitch of his eyebrow, the position of his cards, the drumming of his fingers, anything. 

There was nothing. 

Yuuri sighed. Of course Victor wouldn’t have a tell. He was too good. No professional would have one, especially someone on Victor’s level. 

“Oh, Vicchan.” Yuuri sighed, moving his laptop to the side to pull his dog onto his chest. “How am I going to face Victor again? What do I do?”

Vicchan dipped his head down to give Yuuri kisses on the nose, the pup’s tail swinging back and forth. 

Yuuri laughed, pulling the puppy away from his face. “I can’t just kiss him, Vicchan! I don’t even really know him! I’ve exchanged maybe twenty words with the man, and we were playing poker. If I went up and kissed him out of the blue, he would probably get a restraining order put on me.” 

“It could work, though!” a voice called from the other side of the door. 

Yuuri buried his face in Vicchan’s shoulder, his face warming. “Phichit, go away! I was talking to Vicchan, not you!” 

The door opened, Phichit leaning against the doorframe as he rubbed his hair with a towel. He was wearing a loose white T-shirt and peach coloured booty shorts, which, admittedly, did wonders for his legs. “Don’t talk so loud, then.” 

Yuuri reached behind himself for a pillow, and threw it at his friend. Phichit batted it out of the air, giving Yuuri a look. _The_ look. 

“You really think you’re going to get me like that? You know that I’m immune to surprize pillow attacks,” Phichit said. 

Yuuri pouted. Having both an older and a younger sister, Phichit had probably gotten a lot of pillows thrown at him when he was younger. Yuuri and Mari had never done anything like that to each other, and instead had mostly stayed out of each other’s business. Despite that, they’d always been close. Mari was usually the first person he went to when he had a problem, and she was always happy to at least try to fix his problems with him. 

Phichit tossed the pillow back, and Yuuri slapped it to the ground, giving Vicchan a light squeeze. “Phichit, be careful with my dog. Don’t throw pillows at him,” Yuuri said, earning more kisses from the poodle. 

The Thai boy just rolled his eyes. “Alright, I’ll go. You can’t make me stop listening through the door, though.” 

“So you admit it!” Yuuri shouted. 

Phichit laughed, pulling the door closed. “I admit nothing.” 

Yuuri groaned. “Isn’t he insufferable, Vicchan?”

Vicchan’s tongue lolled out of his mouth as though he was smiling, and Yuuri returned it with a smile of his own and a scratch behind his fluffy ears. 

“I am not!” Phichit said. 

“Quit eavesdropping!” Yuuri called back, rolling onto his side as he cradled Vicchan like a baby and pulling his laptop back into him. “Ready to watch more Victor?” he murmured to his dog. 

Vicchan put his head down on the bed, his limbs loose like he could be dead. It looked like someone wanted to sleep. Yuuri laughed, pressed a kiss to Vicchan’s cheek and angled the laptop so he could see the screen before pressing play.

~`~

Victor woke early in the morning with only the slightest remnants of a headache pounding behind his temples. He rubbed his eyes with the hand that wasn’t occupied. 

Christophe’s head was on his shoulder, one arm wrapped around Victor’s torso, the other lazily laced with Victor’s. 

Another win had led to another night of partying, which had led to Chris in his bed once again. One thing had led to another, as they always seemed to, and they’d happily fallen to lust and pleasure. 

It was a regular enough occurrence, them sleeping together. They were good long-time friends who trusted each other with their lives and had no other partners. If there ever was a partner in one of their lives, they were respectful and stayed just friends until after the official breakup. 

Victor felt bad about hooking up with Chris this time, though. Most of the night, he’d been looking for the Japanese boy they’d played against on the first night of the tournament. He’d hoped to talk to the boy again, maybe hold back on the drinks a bit and get to know him better. He looked back on Friday night with only a few regrets, like not getting his number, of even his Instagram or Twitter, anything he could use to contact him again. 

“What’s with the long face, _mon ami_?” Chris asked, reaching up to brush the bangs from Victor’s forehead, uncovering the eye they naturally fell over. “Thinking about your little Japanese cutie again?” 

“Last night wasn’t fair to you, Chris. My focus should have been on you, not on him,” Victor replied, looking away and letting his hair fall back in his face. 

Chris propped himself over Victor, reaching down for a long, heated kiss that got Victor’s heart racing. He wrapped his arms around Chris, one holding their mouths together, the other their hips. Victor ground their hips together, and Chris moaned into his mouth, hand fisting in Victor’s hair. 

Their making out and grinding lasted until they were both gasping for air. 

“Victor, I know we’re not together. I know I don’t own your heart, and you know you don’t own mine. We’re in lust, not in love. We’re here for the pleasure. I thought that was part of our agreement,” Chris said, free hand trailing down Victor’s body. 

The silver haired man nodded. “I know I just think you deserve more respect than me thinking about someone else while fucking you.” 

Chris laughed, grinding his ass back against Victor’s cock. Victor moaned, head falling back. He couldn’t ignore his arousal anymore. 

Chris raised his body above the Russian’s, reaching behind himself before sinking down on his own fingers. The sound Chris let out went straight to Victor’s dick. Of course Victor knew that he couldn’t just push into his friend without preparation, even if they’d had rough sex the night before. 

Victor sat up, keeping Chris straddled across his lap, and pressed kisses to the blond man’s neck, sucking enough to leave faint purple marks. Once Chris deemed himself stretched enough, he lined himself up with Victor before sitting himself slowly on the long thick length. 

Chris was tight. God, he was tight, no matter how much fucking they did. He watched Chris’s face to make sure he wasn’t in pain as he seated himself on Victor’s hips. 

Victor pulled Chris’s mouth back to his, and they shared kisses as the Swiss man adjusted to the cock inside him. Their kisses were bruising, fueled by their lust alone. Chris’s tongue was hot in his mouth, and he reached down to feel Chris’s cock, using his hand to pump it in rhythm with his thrusts. He was rewarded with erotic moans tumbling from the blond’s mouth, which only spurred him on harder and faster. 

Victor pushed them over, laying Chris out on his back, his hips becoming more fluid as they rolled deeper into the man under him. Chris’s legs fell open, his back arching off the bed, and he was a sight to behold. Victor could feel release coming, his thrusts becoming uneven, Chris pulling at his hair with pants and groans of pleasure. 

Chris came first, coating their stomachs with hot cum, and Victor was close behind him, continuing his thrusting through it. 

“That was so good,” Chris purred as Victor pulled out, cum leaking from his hole. “You’re always so good to me.” 

Victor reached down to kiss Chris, and the Swiss man immediately deepened it, biting at Victor’s bottom lip. They made out for a few more minutes before breaking away, breathless. 

“Go clean up,” Chris murmured, holding Victor’s face close. “We have interviews in a couple hours.”

“You go first. You have more to clean up than I do,” Victor protested. 

Chris just smiled that smile that got him almost anything he wanted. Unfortunately for him, Victor was immune to it. Usually. “Just go. I’ll shower after you.” 

Victor wanted to protest, but he didn’t have the energy to. Instead he nodded and made his way to the bathroom. 

Once clean and wrapped in a towel, he went back to the main room. Chris, who was lounging on their shared bed with his phone held up in front of him, pouted when he say that Victor had covered up. 

“Well, that’s not fun.” He sighed. 

“We can fuck again later, if you think I’m torturing you so,” Victor replied, sorting through his suits for something to wear to the conference. 

“I may have to take you up on that,” Chris murmured. “Now, while I’m in the shower, you might want to watch this video I found.” 

Victor took a quick glance at the paused image on the screen of his friend’s phone. At first, Victor thought that it was maybe some porno Chris had found and thought he’d like or wanted to try certain aspects of, but it wasn’t. 

The video had been taken by some amateur on their phone in what looked like an American casino. Victor almost shrugged and dismissed it as one of Chris’s idle finds on the internet, the ones he stumbled across without meaning to, and didn’t usually hold much interest for Victor. But then he caught a glimpse of a dark haired Japanese boy, sitting next to a dark skinned boy, and he recognized them both instantly. 

Katsuki Yuuri and his friend, Something Chulanont. Yuuri was laid back, exuding a confidence that had been sorely lacking only a couple nights ago when he’d played. 

Katsuki was tossing chips in left, right, and center, raising mercilessly. The smirk across Katsuki’s face was pure seduction like it had been Friday night, when he had approached Victor at the bar, sitting next to him and giving him heated glances frim under his thick eyelashes. Victor had bought him a few drinks, his breath catching in his throat as Yuuri took a seat in his lap, grinding back with the excuse of getting comfortable. 

Victor had fallen hard for that man that night, between being challenged so forwardly in the game and the beautiful display at the bar, how could he not? 

And now, he was in some casino being recorded as he played poker like Victor did. Was it possible he was imitating Victor’s own forward gambling style? 

“Chris…” Victor whispered. 

“They live in Detroit,” the Swiss man said, standing up without caring to cover up. “I don’t mind taking a detour on our ways home.” 

Victor sighed, watching the beautiful Japanese man get cussed out by his friend, only to laugh and wave it off. He couldn’t lie, he had concerns about Yuuri’s sobriety that night, and buying him more drinks probably wasn’t a good idea. But he thought it was worth a shot. Maybe he’d meet a Yuuri even better than drunk or gambling Yuuri. What was he like in his everyday life?

Was he as serious about gambling as Victor was? Did he gamble late into the night, no matter how much he was up or down? Did he only play hold’em, or did he play other games too? Like blackjack? Or craps? Even roulette? Slots? Did he live for the rush of the gamble?

Going to Detroit, the twenty-third largest city in America, and looking for Yuuri would be a gamble. What if Chris’s source was outdated and he wasn’t there anymore? Then where could he be? Somewhere else in America? Japan? 

But like with poker, Victor was happy to put his money on the line for this. Yuuri was most likely in Detroit. And was that… yes. Chulanont was definitely wearing a Detroit college hoodie. Worst case scenario, they found the school and got someone there to tell them where Yuuri was.

After all, who could deny Victor Nikiforov of anything? 

Well, aside from Chris.

Victor looked up at Chris, a grin across his face. “Let’s go, Chris,” he said, eyes wide, heart racing. This was possibly the biggest gamble he’d taken in his life so far, and he hadn’t shied away from dropping large sums of money on sporting events before. But this had the potential to be either for love, or a big bust, whether they found him or not. “Tomorrow, when everything is dealt with, let’s go find my Yuuri.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this chapter, even if it is a bit short, and fairly unproductive. Only one more shorter and slower chapter, then I'm hoping to pick things up. Thank you so much for all your support thus far! 
> 
> And for those wondering about the banquet, I hope the end of this was okay. I'm sure I'll go deeper into it later.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on my [Tumblr](https://downbyashes.tumblr.com) or my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/downbyashes), where I’m trying to be more active!


End file.
